


The son you never had.

by KingFranPetty



Series: Here's how Phooey Duck can still win Endgame. [1]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Bad Poetry, Bad Writing, Emotional, Emotions, Feelings, Feels, Light Angst, Poetic, Poetry, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 01:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20538251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingFranPetty/pseuds/KingFranPetty
Summary: My view point of Della and Phooey 's relationship.





	The son you never had.

There was a child you never had. 

You probably don't remember. 

He never shows up to any picture, if he does. Everyone would discount it for an error or perhaps even a stain on the photo itself. 

He appeared once but it was a dream so he clearly isn't real. 

Nobody remembers him. 

Sometimes people say his name as a display of mistakes or misfortune. 

I wouldn't discount you not to remember.

The son you never had. 

You don't remember very well, because it never happened. 

There was a son you never had. 

He could have been a lot of things, but right now he's nothing. The most nothing that never existed. 

You might have liked him. He may have liked you. 

Maybe you would have found you two had nothing in common. 

Maybe he would have been just too much like you. 

It wasn't your fault he doesn't exist. How could it be? 

Sometimes you'll think there should be one more, like you would forget someone. You'll miscount then recount and remember there's only three. 

Maybe not. 

You think someone is missing but everyone is there.  
Nobody is missing. 

You weren't there, but Donald's friends were watching your eggs once. I think one of them dropped an egg. 

It was a tiny little mistake. 

They didn't mean it. 

Now, everyone thinks that the middle child was the one they dropped. 

Thing is, whenever I hear of someone dropping an egg. The egg is likely to break open. 

You know, crack. Splatter on the hard, cold, unforgiving ground. 

Everyone thinks they dropped Dewey, I think they dropped Phooey. 

Ah Phooey, right? 

But this is all very silly. 

After all,

There was only three eggs, right? 

The End.


End file.
